Chapter 14

14

" R eady to go, Freckles?" Dylan looks at me from the driver's seat, excitement radiating from him in waves, elegant hands flexing on the steering wheel. The guys are borrowing Cam’s old Defender, and it suits Dylan well, highlighting his rough, rugged edges and reminding me he's not just a nice guy–he's an incredibly attractive nice guy. I fasten my seatbelt, trying not to stare at the chameleon beside me. This is the third time I’ve been reminded how horribly wrong my first impression of him was. Today, he's wearing a wool coat the same color as his eyes, dark jeans, and leather boots.

"You look really nice. Do you pick out your clothes yourself?" I ask, my cheeks heating the second the words are out of my mouth. What a stupid thing to say.

"Yes,” he chuckles. “I’ve been interested in sustainable fashion for a few years now. I saw a video on wardrobe capsules and ran with it."

My eyebrows shoot up. "Really? I always wanted to do a capsule but never found the time. Maybe we can go shopping if we have extra time, and you can teach me your ways."

"I'd like that, but you don’t need my help in the fashion department. I'm jealous of how effortlessly cool you look." His gaze slides over my body, making me shiver.

"Aw, shucks." I can't keep the smile from my face, and Dylan returns it tenfold, his dimples doing funny things to my stomach. I've never met someone quite like him. I could peel off layer after layer and still learn new things.

"Are you going to tell me where we’re going?" Last night, when he texted me to ask if I was up for scoping out some pubs, he told me he'd plan the whole thing–all I needed to do was show up.

"We're going to Inverness. I originally wanted to stay on the islands, but I don't think we'll get the inspiration we need without going to a bigger city."

I nod my agreement. "As long as you have a coffee stop scheduled into this trip, it sounds perfect."

"Don't worry, I didn't forget about your caffeine addiction." We pull into the ferry terminal, park the car where the attendant instructs, and then Dylan jumps out, coming around to help open my door. "We have about twenty minutes. If we run, we'll make it."

"Dylan!"

"No time for arguing, come on."

"I can just get a coffee on the ferry!" I protest, trying to ignore the zing of awareness that plows through my body when he grabs my hand.

"You and I both know that's not good enough." He gives me a grin, and then we're off, dodging around cars and dashing up the street. I'm gasping for breath by the time we get to the café, mentally making a note to add more cardio to my gym routine. Dylan looks perfectly coifed, like we did nothing but take a leisurely walk.

"How are you not out of breath?" I pant, putting my hands on my knees as I struggle to suck air into my lungs.

"I'm an elite athlete, Isla. Didn't you know?"

I return his wink with a glare, wiping the sweat from my upper lip.

He holds up hands his hands in surrender. "Before we moved, I participated in triathlons. I'll have to start training again before I start losing progress."

"Triathlons? I've always wanted to do one, but the training alone is intimidating."

"They're not so bad after the first one."

"How many have you done?"

"My goal is three per year."

Holy shit. "What was the last one?" Our turn comes up before he can answer, but I get suspicious when he still doesn't respond after we step aside to wait. “Are you evading my question?"

"No," he laughs. "I just don't want to intimidate you." His dimple comes out, the sparkle in his eyes making my knees wobble.

"Intimidate me?"

"That's why we were in Scotland last summer."

I think back to last summer, and it dawns on me. "You're kidding. You were here for the Ironman?" He nods, a blush creeping up his cheeks. "I thought you were joking about your elite athlete comment. Holy shit, Dylan." I can see the relief in his eyes when the barista calls his name. He insists on holding my coffee as we head back to the car, not giving it up until I’m safely seated. "What made you decide to start doing triathlons?" I ask once he’s joined me.

He thinks about the question, taking a minute before responding. "I was starting to believe people's perception of me—that I was just a nerd that liked numbers." He looks up at me. "I wanted to prove that I’m more than my IQ."

"I’ve never thought about it like that before. I know athletes are usually put in a box, but I guess I never realized it went the other way, too."

He shrugs. "It doesn't help that Henry and Theo were athletes in high school. I had a healthy dose of jealousy spurring my decision." I can't take my eyes off his hand as he shifts into drive and follows the line of cars onto the ferry. As soon as we're parked, he takes my hand, and we race inside to get the best seats.

"I'm glad we're doing this," I whisper, looking over at him, shyness creeping in .

"Me, too." He holds my gaze while he sips his coffee, licking the foam from his upper lip. "Now it's your turn to tell me your secrets."

"I don't really have any. What you see is what you get."

"I highly doubt that," he says, his eyes caressing every inch of my skin. I'm not sure if he realizes what he’s doing, but my body's response is instantaneous. "Tell me something you're passionate about, then."

"I love planning the parties at the castle." God, that’s such a ditsy thing to say. I cover my cheeks, hiding my embarrassment.

"What kind of parties?"

"There's the yearly masquerade ball coming up, then the Oidhche Shamhna ball."

"The what?"

"Halloween," I clarify, giggling at the look on his face.

"That’s Gaelic, isn’t it? Say something else. Please."

"Tha thu bòidheach."

"What does that mean?" he asks, stumbling over the syllables.

"You're beautiful."

He stills, his throat bobbing. "Do you mean that?"

"Have you seen yourself?" My gaze roams over him, appreciating the beauty of those big brown eyes, the dark fringe of his eyelashes, and those dimples I'm starting to love so much.

"Nobody has ever said that to me before."

"I'll make sure to say it more often then." On impulse, I lean toward him and brush my lips over his cheek. His scent punches me right in the gut. "God, you smell good." I bury my face against his neck, inhaling him. Spicy citrus with a hint of musk. He wraps his arm around me, and I rest my head on his shoulder, basking in the quiet intimacy of the moment.

The ferry ride and the drive to Inverness go by in the blink of an eye. Dylan puts on a playlist he made specifically for today, and we sing at the top of our lungs for the entire five hours. I’ve nearly lost my voice by the time we pull into a parking spot in the city center .

The first pub is lively despite it being barely past one in the afternoon. We opt for a booth so we can talk openly without the bartender overhearing us. The ambiance is top-notch, and for the first time since I accepted losing the pub, I'm nostalgic thinking about what it could have been.

"I don't know why I thought this was a good idea," Dylan says, reading me like an open book.

"It's fine."

"It's not fine. I'm asking you to participate in a dream-building session for a dream we ripped right out of your hands, Isla. It's not fucking fair."

"Hey." I grab his hand, squeezing gently. "I forgive you. I forgive your brothers. You didn't do it on purpose, and that’s what matters. It's normal for people to look back at what could have been and feel a little sad."

"You're too good for us, Isla. We're raw. Messy. Chaos follows us everywhere we go."

"You're speaking my language, big guy." He starts to protest, but I press a finger against his lips, lingering there longer than necessary. "I'm happy to be here with you, still dreaming about what the pub can be in the future. I may not own it, but it still means a lot to me." He grips my wrist, turning my hand and kissing my palm.

"I don't think I'll ever get used to how good of a person you are," he murmurs, the bottomless pools of his eyes drawing me in.

"If you could’ve heard my thoughts when the three of you showed up, you wouldn't feel the same way," I laugh.

"Were you ready to murder us?"

"I would have just maimed you and Henry. I had already started digging a hole for Theo." I sip my beer, closing my eyes as the flavors burst over my tongue. It's phenomenal.

"Let me know next time. I'll help you."

"Dylan! He's your brother!"

"You underestimate how upset this whole thing made me. I haven't been that angry with him in a long time. "

"Let's make this the last time we talk about it, okay? I don't want to draw it out. What's done is done."

Dylan nods reluctantly, holding up his glass. "To the future."

I clink my glass against his, our eyes locked as we drink.

"Damn, this is good." He pulls out the menu, skimming his finger over it until he comes to the beer we ordered. "It's a local beer," he says, impressed. "Is there a brewery on Harris?”

“No, the closest one is in Stornoway.”

“Have you ever thought about opening one?"

I rake my hands through my hair, pulling it over my shoulder. "Yes, actually. I took a summer course a couple of years ago."

"What happened?"

"Life." I shrug. It was a pipe dream, and I knew it.

"Do you still want to do it?"

I carefully unpack the old dream of starting a business from scratch–something I can call my own. I picture taking my creations to competitions and seeing how it stacks up against my colleagues, building a legacy for myself.

"Well, I'd say that's a yes," Dylan chuckles, reading my emotions.

"I'm sure it would be hard as hell, but having something of my own has always been appealing."

"Do you have somewhere to do it? We could help you get set up."

"Back when I was seriously considering it, Jack offered me the empty side of the barn."

"I think we should all sit down and talk when we get back,” he says, absently tracing my hand with his fingertip.

"Who's we?"

"Charlie's guys and your guys."

"My guys?" I raise an eyebrow at him.

An alarm goes off, and Dylan glances at his phone. "Time to get to the next pub."

"You set an alarm?" I can’t keep the smile off my lips.

"Multiple. How else will we stay on track and get back to the ferry on time?"

"God, I love you." He freezes, and I gulp down the last of my beer in absolute mortification. I push back from the table without looking at him and walk to the bar, pulling my card out of my back pocket.

He traps me against the bar, his chest warm against my back. "Don't you dare. You're here as a favor for us, you're not spending a single penny."

I can't help the shiver that slides down my spine, anticipation racing through my veins.

"Was that shiver for me?" The rasp of his voice stirs something low in my belly. His hand brushes my hip as he leans forward to hand the bartender his card, those long, elegant fingers resting on my waist. It takes everything in me not to turn around in his arms.

I need to get a grip. Take this slowly. He's the last hurdle before I launch myself headlong into a relationship with all three of them. I need to be one hundred percent sure that's what I want before I take this last step.

His other hand loosely circles the base of my throat, his thumb brushing my pulse. Oh god. My heart rate jumps, adrenaline surging. I twist and duck under his arm, murmuring something about meeting him outside. I slam through the door, pressing my back against the outside of the building, forcing myself to take deep breaths.

Dylan bursts through the door. "What's wrong?" He scans me from head to toe, his gaze settling back on my face when he's satisfied I'm not hurt.

"Are you sure this is what you want?" I ask, searching his gaze, desperate for the truth.

"What is 'this,’ Isla?"

"Being stuck in a relationship with your brothers when it tore you apart last time. Being with someone not willing to choose between the three of you. How is it fair to any of you?"

He pulls my hands away from my face and links his fingers with mine. "First, I've never been more sure of anything in my life. Second, the reason I know this will work is because you're not willing to choose between us." He presses a kiss to my forehead, the intimacy bringing tears to my eyes. "Third, I don't want anyone other than you, Isla. I've been dreaming of this moment since that day in the pub a year ago."

"This moment?" I ask, my lower lip trembling.

He hums his affirmation, bringing my hand up to hook around his neck and then cupping my face, his thumb sweeping over my bottom lip.

"Why this moment?" I ask, leaning into his touch.

"Because I knew if I ever got the chance to kiss you, it would be the first day of the rest of my life." He shifts closer, the sun slanting over him, deepening the angles of his face, sending a surge of red-hot desire through my body.

"What are you waiting for, then? Kiss me."